


The French Lesson

by crowmomma



Category: A Little Princess - Frances Hodgson Burnett
Genre: Christmas, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-22
Updated: 2012-12-22
Packaged: 2017-11-21 23:24:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/603206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crowmomma/pseuds/crowmomma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Christmas time and Becky anxiously awaits the return of Sara Crewe to the Carrisford Mansion after her long journey to India.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The French Lesson

**Author's Note:**

  * For [miss_pryss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_pryss/gifts).



Imagine Christmas time in London, and a light snowfall dusting the city. It brought about a kind of hush to the otherwise noisy and hard streets. As the snow fluttered down from the heavens it covered every nook and cranny of this city and washed it clean with white. The effect was magical and sparked an excitement in the air that even the lamplighter climbing down his ladder, from the third gas mantle he had replaced that day, found himself cheery and whistling “Good King Wenceslas.” He was delighted that every time he coaxed another lamp to life its yellow light transformed the snow into sparkling diamonds. It brought to mind the diamond mines of India where some say the rocks were studded with jewels and the sands starred with diamonds. “Imagine if I could wish the light of my lamps to make all those snow sparkles real diamonds. What a life I’d ‘ave,” the lamplighter chuckled to himself for he rarely had a fanciful thought. 

The lamplighter’s fantasy put him in such a good mind that as he carried his ladder down the snowy street to his next lamp he sang:

“Good King Wenceslas look'd out,  
On the Feast of Stephen  
When the snow lay round about,  
Deep, and crisp, and even!” 

Tonight he didn’t even envy the warm fire brewing through the wreathed window of the grand Carrisford mansion where a young woman and young man sat together around a table staring down at two books and looking quite serious about their business. 

The young man had a kind face that was overtaken by his round spectacles. And his mop of hair, combed back with macassar oil, seemed to struggle with it’s styling. His attire bespoke of a man who took his work and visit quite seriously -- a charcoal frock coat neatly lined with a black velvet collar and a grey silk waistcoat. His crystal tie tack indicated this visit was a special one. 

The young woman with a rosy sweet face was small for her age. But if you were to peek closer into the window and look deep into her eyes you would see she had already lived many lifetimes. Her dress was reflective of the turn-of-the-century Gibson girl with a simple laced Abbington blouse and navy wool bustled skirt. Curiously, her attire did not match a lady who would sit comfortably in the morning room. All except the treasure of a cameo pinned to her high collar featuring two little ivory girls dancing and holding hands. 

“Bienvenue, Sara,” chirped the young woman whose accent was atrocious but enthusiasm evident.

“Very good, Becky,” said the young man with a thick French accent, “Now try, I am so happy to see you.”

“Oh, but I am glad to see ‘er! I mean, I will be glad to see _her!_ ” blurted Becky and she placed her hands to her heart for she felt an excited stirring inside herself, “Oh, Mr. Amandine, I cannot believe I will see Miss Sara tonight. It’s like one of ‘er stories come to life! The princess returns from a long journey to India back to her homeland at last!”

Monsieur Amandine smiled and when he did Becky noticed his brown eyes sparkled like a tiny-lit coal peeking out from under the ashes. 

“Becky, I am so glad that you are so happy,” said Monsieur Amandine in a gentle tone and pushed his hands together signaling for her to resume. “Now let us try to say everything in your head in _French._ Won’t Miss Crewe be so pleased when she hears how her attendant has done so well with her French lessons?” 

Becky knew Sara would be pleased with how hard she was trying in her lessons with Monsieur Amandine. It was Sara’s idea Becky study with Monsieur Amandine after he tutored the Carmichael children. 

In her first letter to Becky Sara wrote:

_If we are to travel the world together Becky, you must know how to speak the languages of the world. First, you will start with French. It is a beautiful language but don’t let its melody fool you. It can be tricky and you must practice speaking it every day._

“Je suis heureux de vous voir,” said Becky slowly but this time her accent was sounder.

“Wonderful, Becky!” cried Monsieur Amandine. 

“Merci,” she said with a smile. 

Becky’s mind drifted back to that first precious letter from Sara and how she detailed her journey across the ocean to the British Raj. 

_Oh, Becky how I wish you were on this grand P &O steamer with me cruising off to an adventure in India. The open sea and salt air are exhilarating and bring to mind the brave and bold explorers of our past such as Marco Polo. I will imagine I am a brave explorer on my journey with my dear Mr. Carrisford – off to discover untouched lands and treasures unheard of. What fun I will have supposing this role with not a soul on this ship suspecting my true identity! Although there are hundreds of passengers, I miss your companionship, sweet Becky. If only you could join me on my “morning marches” on the decks which are not only invigorating but enlightening. Imagine Becky, there are many women of prominent background on this ship off to India to find themselves husbands! They’ve set sail for India in the hopes of catching military officers and young eligible men to marry as if they were codfish. When I discovered at supper one evening these women are called “Fishing Fleets” my cheeks flushed red and I had to hold down my laughter! _

_Dear Becky, I have truly thought about it on this journey and have decided I will never marry (imagine my sweet papa’s fortune given over to my husband the day of our nuptials!). Queen Victoria, Empress of India, ruled without Albert for a goodly amount of time and I dare say I could do the same. I find myself drawn to the women on the Vectis who are moving to India to teach, work with the poor, and live courageous independent lives in the wild and severe country of India. When I return to London, sweet Becky, after my Indian gentleman and I visit and conduct our business at the diamond mines, I will finally be of age to manage my own affairs and money. I must think and plan on what I shall endeavor to do with my life and gifts. How I will be of service to the populace? It is an exciting future to think on._

Becky wondered what Sara had decided and if she was to be included in her plans. Looking over at Monsieur Amandine’s wondering gaze Becky realized she had been lost in one of her worried thoughts and quickly apologized, “Beggin’ your pardon, Monsieur Amandine.”

“Je disais, soon you shall speak to Miss Crewe in perfect French. Although I imagine you miss speaking to her in English too, no?”

“No! I mean, yes, but, well you see, sir, I speak to ‘er,” she stopped herself and spoke slower for she knew her excitement had stirred up her bad habits, “speak to _Sara_ every Thursday evening after supper.”

“Oh?” asked Monsieur Amandine whose face looked surprised but his lips hinted a smile. He was eager to hear Becky’s thoughts for they delighted him. After his lessons with the Carmichael children, he looked forward to his time with Becky. These first three years living in London had been prosperous but also a bit lonely. Becky’s eagerness, excitement, and observations always made him feel happy. 

“Before Miss Sara left, she came to visit me in my room,” described Becky, “Mind you, I had just gotten over the measles, as weak as a baby bird, and Mr. Carrisford did not want her near me. But, she insisted. She said for me not to be sad that although I couldn’t go with her to India I was to suppose I was a “wounded soldier” who needed to rest from a fierce battle I had won. She told me we must bear this time apart but she promised we could write every week to one another. An’ every Thursday after supper we could open one another’s letters an’ pretend –the way we did as girls in her room and later the attic—that we were in the same room together, talking, nibbling on cake, and sharing stories.”

Monsieur Amandine was touched and asked in a curious whisper, “And, did you?”

Becky smiled grandly and the look on her face was answer enough. “We did. I would curl up in my sitting chair Miss Sara sent to me and read them like I was eating up a handful of maple candy! Oh, and her letters were magic! The way Miss Sara described India it was as if I was there myself, riding elephants, feeling the hot sun warming my skin, an’ visiting old temples with fierce gods etched upon them.”

“Merveilleux!” cried Monsieur Amandine who clapped his hands once, “Ne m'ayez jamais a entendu parler d'une telle dévotion entre deux amis!” 

Becky’s eyes jumped out of her head because she did not know how to respond to her tutor’s excited proclamation. Monsieur Amandine gave a joyful quick laugh. He marveled at how Becky’s eyes could say as much as the young woman herself. “I said,” he explained, “you two are devoted friends.”

“Yes! I am devoted to her, Monsieur Amandine,” Becky answered. “She is more than just a friend and my mistress. I wish to take care of her for as long as she will let me for nobody has ever cared for me like Miss Sara.” Suddenly Becky’s throat felt tight and she said in a worried tone, “It’s been over a year, Monsieur Amandine, I hope I can be the attendant she needs for a lady of her standing.”

Monsieur Amandine saw the frown line on Becky’s brow deepen and he knew along with her excitement she must feel anxious at Miss Sara Crewe’s arrival. 

“You have worked very hard Becky,” complimented Monsieur Amandine, “Look and listen to yourself. You have transformed this last year.”

Becky felt her face flushing and she looked down at her knees at studied her skirt. Monsieur Amandine’s compliments made her feel vulnerable. She was not sure what he meant by transformed but she knew his words were kind. She smoothed her dress as if to iron out any wrinkles but really she needed something for her nervous hands to do. 

She said in a reflecting tone, “I suppose I have.”

It was true she had worked hard at her reading, writing, sewing, and French. Most of all she had worked tirelessly to speak proper English so she could make Sara proud of her. Ms. Carmichael and her attendant Olivia had been patient and firm with her while Sara was away. They had not only instructed Becky in her future duties but also patiently pushed her in her studies. She had learned from Sara how to pretend –although sometimes it was very hard for her to do so – and she pretended that she had been trained from a very early age to be an attendant to a queen. Although to Becky caring for Princess Sara seemed more wonderful than taking care of any European royalty. This pretending gave Becky a determination and enthusiasm to her work that the other servants took notice of in the Carrisford mansion. Everyone had been so kind to Becky that year that her heart felt blessed even though there was a vacant spot waiting for Sara to fill.

Becky looked up and her eyes were moist but she turned to smile at Monsieur Amandine to let him know that his words had touched her. 

“You will endeavor to do your very best as you always do,” he said gently and fiddled with his spectacles, “Miss Crewe will be very pleased with you as her attendant.”

Becky nodded her head in agreement as a way of assuring herself and Monsieur Amandine that this would be the happy ending to her time away from Miss Sara as the “recovering soldier.” 

“But, what of the Thursday stories?” Monsieur Amandine asked hoping to coax Becky back to her bright mood.

“Oh, I hope they will continue,” she said with a dreamy voice. “I’m sure they will. Miss Sara has as many stories any given day as baker has bread in the bread shop.”

“From my own experience, I would say you too have many stories, Becky,” suggested Monsieur Amandine.

“Me?” she broke into a friendly laugh, “I hardly have a thought in my head!”

This reply surprised Monsieur Amandine and he laughed, “C’est pas vrai, Becky. C’est pas vrai.” He then patted the hand of his wonderful pupil who sat staring at him with curious eyes and chuckled, “Not true, Becky. Not true.” Becky began to giggle as well, realizing how silly her declaration must have sounded. To punctuate their jubilance a crackling pinecone burst inside the fire and made a sound that startled Becky with a yelp. The two began robustly laughing and as they did a merry magic began wrapped around them and wove its way through the firelight, and the garlands hanging from the mantle, around the picture frames and mirrors wrapped in evergreen rope and through the windowpanes to the lamplight outside.

“Becky, you have made me laugh and wonder,” said Monsieur Amandine as he took a breath, “Your stories have delighted me all year.”

“Laughter is as fillin’ as meat pies,” declared Becky, “Being with somebody who makes you feel warm and fed is the best feeling of all.”

Then Becky touched the cameo with the dancing girls at her throat and said in a more thoughtful tone, “That is how Miss Sara made me feel. Her stories of fairies and funny sea creatures would comfort and feed me even on our worst days in the attic. Even when we were starving.”

Monsieur Amandine felt his mouth go dry and he had a sudden urge to put his hand on Becky’s arm for comfort. “I did not know. C’est horrible.”

“Rebecca!” called out Mrs. Carmichael as she entered the morning room. “I am sorry to end your lesson with Monsieur Amandine but Cook needs a word with you before Sara arrives.” 

Becky noted Mrs. Carmichael was dressed in her newly bought blue velvet evening dress, with a long coat bodice decorated with a black rose brocade, obviously selected to celebrate Sara’s return. She wondered how Mrs. Carmichael was able to get through all of the doorways with her wide rimmed blue noir hat that hosted wings of green feathers and small silver balls tucked in the folds

Having their conversation so abruptly interrupted, both Becky and Monsieur Amandine let the moment hang in the air until Becky stuttered, “Yes Mrs. Carmichael,” and stood up quickly. She began to walk away but abruptly turned around and nodded to Monsieur Amandine, “Merci, Monsieur Amandine. Pour tut.”

“Pour tut. For everything,” thought Monsieur Amandine and was deeply moved by those two choice words.

“Wonderful, Rebecca,” complimented Mrs. Carmichael. “Yes, thank you Mr. Amandine for your excellent lessons. Will you be attending Miss Crewe’s Christmas Party?”

Monsieur Amandine rouse from his seat and collected his books. “Yes, Mrs. Carmichael I shall attend the party and I look forward to meeting my patroness of my _le meilleur élève._ My prize pupil.”

Mrs. Carmichael gave Becky a wink and turned to Monsieur Amandine, “I promise not to tell Donald, Janet, and Nora that they are second to our Rebecca in their studies.”

“Yes,” Monsieur Amandine smiled and nodded, “please keep it a secret.” Monsieur Amandine exchanged a playful look with Becky that made her smile one of her rare slow grins that showed off her teeth. 

Mrs. Carmichael guided Becky out of the room with her hand, “Good evening, Monsieur Amandine. Now, Rebecca, I think you will be pleased with how Cook has outdone herself with the food that shall be delivered to Metropolitan Police Orphanage. She made railway cakes, and…”

As Becky walked away, Monsieur Amandine realized that for once, he was the pupil and Becky was the tutor. He learned he never felt as full as he did when he spent time with her. And, that he too must have been starving before he met Becky. He breathed in the heavenly scents of fir, pine, and hemlock as he wrapped up himself up in his coat, scarf, and bowler hat for the cold outside. As he ventured out into the falling snow, Monsieur Amandine felt warm all over from the knowledge that he was fed by his friendship with Becky and that tonight his pupil would finally be reunited with her beloved Miss Sara Crewe.

**Author's Note:**

> Dear Reader, it has given me so much pleasure to write this story. Thank you for allowing me to revisit this world that I adored as a young girl. I think I may continue writing this story for the sake of Becky and Sara’s much needed reunion, the Christmas party, and their decisions about their bright and exciting futures. I will send you more if you like as the tale unfolds. Happy Holidays!


End file.
